A Forbidden Love
by Miss Peanut
Summary: World War 2 has just ended and people's lives are in turmoil. London is teeming with foreigners and one just happens to be tan, Polish, and blue eyed. And from the war this foreigner only has one option; work. Au Zutara. Avatar/Countess Below Stairs plot.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Avatar the Last Airbender is not owned by me

**Disclaimer**: Avatar the Last Airbender is not owned by me.

**Ch.1**

The respected daughter of a gentleman and her granddaughter sat in the parlor of the revered Mr. Harry Cilstone, the family's lawyer since before Sokka and Katara were even born. The room was small and cozy, with dark paneling on the four tall walls. It is very grand, but not even as grand as Lady Kanna Drasinky's smallest mansion in the hills, or at least it used to be her mansion.

"Grandma, you know this is necessary, I have to do this. We can't keep living on Mr. Cilstone's generosity," Katara pleaded with Kanna, who was acting rather like a stubborn mule and not taking stock of the situation they were in.

"I don't see how it's necessary. Harry said we can stay here as long as we want and you know they won't hire a lady to do work as a house maid. You are the daughter of a gentleman, not some country peasant," Kanna fired back, her eyes intense, but her will slowly crumbling like the way her beautiful home in the hills of Poland probably was.

The war was hard on countless families and too many people needed jobs. Once very rich and respected, Kanna had three mansions, numerous jewels, and so many servants she could not even name them all, but the war changed that. Kanna's daughter died in the beginning when a raid happened on their native city. Their house was ransacked and everything worth any value stolen. They fled to their mansion in the hills, and Katara's father was called into service. With heavy hearts, Katara and Sokka watched their remaining parent go off to battle.

When enemy troops approached the village and were dangerously close to the family, they had to leave that home too, taking with them only what they could carry. News of a brutal battle in the southern border of their country left Katara and Sokka fatherless, with only their Grandmother to rely one. Now poor, with everything of value owned by them looted, or stolen right off their hands, they fled their native country and traveled to England, where their old lawyer assisted them.

The only gem not stolen was Katara's vivid sapphire necklace that once belonged to her mother as an engagement present. After her mother's passing, the large pendent was always seen on Katara's slim neck.

"They won't know I am a lady, because they probably don't keep a list of esteemed families in foreign countries," Katara replied calmly in her thick Polish accent, her w's acting as v's. "I will just be another foreigner in the countless ones here looking for work. The agency has already found a home in need of more servants and I've been accepted! I will send home my paycheck every week so you can at least pay a rent."

"Aren't you forgetting the small matter of what Sokka will say when he finds out you're working as a servant?" Kanna asked, bringing up a valid argument in her defense, "You know he's only finishing school because you want him too. If he finds out you're working as a maid, he'll catch the first train to London, and find a job himself, probably selling newspapers or something else as dirty as that."

"I won't tell him," Katara said sternly "He's away at that academy, he doesn't have to know.

"Fine," Kanna said sighing, "But this isn't going to be permanent. When I find a suitable match for you, he can support us."

Katara just fidgeted in her chair. She may be a Lady, but she was also a poor penniless Polish immigrant, with no parents. It would be hard to find a respectable gentleman to marry that kind of package.

* * *

Mr. Charlie Sidle, the head butler at Lord Zuko Clayton's mansion, but it was more of a castle, patiently distributed the day's work assignments. Today was the day the new maid would arrive from the agency, and who knew what they would send. He was not informed much about the new girl charged to be an extra hand around the large castle, now needing much additional help. He was told she was seventeen and foreign. No one seemed fit to make it known to him what nationality she actually was. Who knew if she was Russian, German, Bulgarian, or even Yiddish?

When the war started, and the master joined ranks fighting over sea, much of the house was closed off. The war now ended and its owner coming home, the many dusty, dank, and rundown rooms were being open. Every servant on hand and even the kitchen maids would be busy repairing, cleaning, and making the rooms presentable for its brooding master, a twenty year old and much eligible male.

Mr. Sidle who had seen Zuko grow from a toddler to an irritable teenager wished whole-heartedly for his happiness. He very much cared for the boy, and traveled with him and his Uncle when they moved into the mysterious castle he is now employed at. His uncle being retired and too old for the war stayed in the dark mansion the year his nephew was warring.

Zuko would be discharged from the hospital in seven days, and so in a week he would be traveling home. The nurses, who all fought over being the one to take care of him, healed his injuries of two broken ribs and a broken leg, which he received in a submarine explosion. Zuko always being an adamant horse rider, automobile driver, and anything that could move at a fast speed was employed as a captain in the navy and he also steered many submarines.

"Sarah! Polish the silver better than that!" barked Mr. Sidle, eyeing the less than average cleaning of the dinner set.

"Yes sir," mumbled Sarah in return, not in any mood to redo the job she thought was perfectly acceptable.

Mr. Sidle wandered down the many corridors and hallways of the Clayton Castle, advising where advice was needed, and ordering work to be done when the job being carried out was not satisfactory.

In harder times, when less people were employed, he would have to take part in the labor more frequently, but since the master was returning and more servants hired, he would no longer need to take part in any dirty work, such as beating carpets, scrubbing tapestries, polishing dinner sets, cleaning banisters, and dusting sculptures.

* * *

Katara hurried down the avenue, cursing the stupid train that held up the carriage taking her to her new servitude. Being late on your first day does not look good, especially if when you arriv your employers will be able to tell that you've never done that kind of work in your life.

The street Katara was practically sprinting down was lined on each side by deep forestry, but she did not have time to pay attention to the haunting feeling it inspired. The abode soon came into view, and Katara slowed to a walk, not wanting to be breathless when she was introduced. Carefully she ascended the hill that would take her to the walk which led to the back door. The house that was her new home, stirred a feeling of awe in the pit Katara's stomach.

The steep spiraling columns held up walls that led to turrets rising high into the sky. The pale brown stone cemented on the castle looked worn and old, even crumbling in a few places. Katara gulped and traveled through the overgrown gardens on the property; bushes advancing on the sidewalk, weeds two feet high growing in the cracks of the brick, roses in desperate need of love. She was now a maid at what could easily be Frankenstein's fortress.

Nervously Katara knocked once, twice, and a third time on the hard wooden frame.

"Aye, we've been wait'in for you," an older lady in a dirty apron announced swinging open the door, "Come on in lass and we'll give ye your assignments…Me name's Rose by the way."

"I'm Katara."

"I know, everyone ere does. We've all been in a jitter this morning awaitin the arrival of some foreigner. Everyone's been makin bets on where you is from. Looks like I lost," Rose said in her chunky English accent, "Lost me a whole day's wages sayin that I thought you'd turn out to be Swedish."

"Oh…My whole family's from Poland," Katara said tentatively, as she glanced around the kitchen she was being led into. A large wooden table bigger than half the parlor at Mr. Clistone's stood in the middle of the room. Meats, vegetables, spices, and other various food assortments hung on the walls or lay in wooden barrels on the floor.

"Looks like Teo won the gamble…humph…the kid don't even work as hard as the rest of us. He just roams around the grounds all day helping his dad with all the odds and ends the castle needs," Rose grumbled walking to the large table in the center of the kitchen, "Stay here while I go get Mr. Sidle. I'm sure the other workers will want to get a glimpse of ye anyway."

Katara sat lightly on a stool by the fireplace careful not to disturb the pot hanging over the billowing flames. The scent issuing from it was enticing, perfuming the air with the smell of cooking meat, chives, parsley, and carrots. Surprising her, a faint rumble sounded from her belly, reminding her that she ate no breakfast this morning because of the severe nervousness that came with a new circumstance.

The walls in the kitchen were a dark unwelcoming brown, just as cold as the outside appearance. Even though many lights burned on the ceiling, the room still felt chilly and lonely.

"You're the new maid," a girl who appeared to be about sixteen said cheerily as she popped through the doorway, "You'll be working with me. I'll be showing you the rooms and such, and the work you'll be doing when the boss-man releases you."

"The who?" Katara asked innocently.

"Suki! Go finish dusting the fifth guest room, and air out the curtains while your at it," Clipped Mr. Sidle walking into the kitchen, with Rose following a step behind him, "You can talk to her later when there's no work to be done."

"Yes Sir!" Suki said in a military-like voice, while raising her hand up in a brisk salute. Rose snickered, but hid it in her apron as she grabbed a broom and pretended to be sweeping. Mr. Sidle turned an odd color of purple, but quickly changed his shade back to the norm.

"I am Mr. Sidle, the head butler of the premises."

Gracefully Katara stood, the stool not moving a centimeter as she did. Elegantly, she bowed, her foot drawing a sophisticated arc on the dark wood floor, her head gently falling. Oh no, thought Mr. Sidle. This girl was clearly not a scullery maid or even the daughter of a scullery maid. Not even the daughter of a tavern maid. She was the daughter of someone born to privilege.

"Have you done this kind of work before?" Squeaked Mr. Sidle, "You don't seem to be exactly what we are looking for. We will assign to you hard labor, exertion you might not be prepared for."

"Oh! I will try. I will work my hardest! I promise you I won't stop or slack or not do my assignments. I'll get up at the crack of dawn and work until the sun has been long out of the sky. I promise I'll work hard!" Katara exclaimed a little louder then she meant. The nerves seemed to really be making it hard to control herself.

"Okay. I am just telling you so you know. I don't want you to be surprised when the work starts. We will pay you for the first week, and if your work is satisfactory then we will employ you for longer. The first seven days is a trial week."

* * *

Katara nimbly slipped the pale calico dress over her shoulders, and replaced it with her new uniform: a dark brown dress, white apron, and white starch cap in which she tucked every strand of her hair into. Formal occasions such as a dinner party required a gothic blue dress, black apron, and black cap.

Katara's room was situated in the farthest end of the servants' quarters. Its size was small, not even as big as the master suite's closet. The walls were dark, of course, considering every wall Katara had seen were a gloomy depressed color of paint. Her room was painted with a shade of pine green, a tint she actually liked; the color of the rolling trees of the forests of her homeland.

The room consisted of a small bed with a sheet that was once probably white, a table holding a lamp, the only source of light in the room, and a chest. A basin and pitcher sat on the floor by the chest, not having a table to be placed on. Katara dropped her luggage, a carpet bag, on the divan. She pulled out a vibrant quilt with a red poinsettia pattern and tucked it into the bed, giving the room much needed warmth.

The one other dress she owned was folded and placed into the chest by the door. On top of that, her favorite book _Pride and Prejudice_ was laid. Katara was quite a romantic, reading all Jane Austen's novels, the Bronte sisters' books, and anything she could get her hands on. The last object pulled out of the dusty old bag was a black and white photograph of Kanna, Katara, Sokka, and their parents. After those objects were situated, the carpet bag was carefully positioned next to them.

Katara pinned up her hair, washed her face from the water in the pitcher, patted it dry, and ascended down the back staircase to meet her fate.

**End of ch. 1. Hope you like it so far!!**

**Review!! They make me feel more inspired to write.**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender.

**Notes: **This is not a story set in modern times. I'm not exactly sure what time period this fits into, but perhaps as the story goes on one will be made known.

**Ch.2**

Katara entered Mr. Sidle's office so quietly he did not even notice her presence until looking up from his papers, he saw the lovely figure standing before him.

"Your assignments for today," Mr. Sidle said after clearing his throat and pushing the very small spectacles on the tip of his nose to his eyes, "Will be to thoroughly clean the foyer attached to the yellow room, God knows how long anyone's set foot in there, which includes dusting, sweeping, scrubbing the floors, washing the curtains, and even beating the large rug in the middle of the room. It's a light task, but it is your first day so…"

"Thank you sir, I'll get right to work," Katara replied seriously bounding out the door.

"Wait," Mr. Sidle yelped, "I need to show you where the supplies are." At this warning Katara stopped and retraced her steps back to the large grape colored room, where Mr. Sidle stood politely at his desk.

"The brooms, buckets, and such are in a large closet off the kitchen by the stairs to the servants' quarters."

Katara nodded, bowed again, and left the presence of the amused Mr. Sidle, who in earlier times would never have been so lenient. Easily she found the closet, and loading up a bucket with a rag, duster, and soap she noticed the room was as big as hers in the servants' quarters up the stairs.

"Hi," A cheery voice exclaimed making Katara jump, "I'm Teo. My father's the handyman around here."

"It's nice to meet you. I hope you received all the money from your bet," Katara replied politely looking at the boy in the wheelchair. His pale face was covered in a mask of dark hair but his eyes were kind and gentle, their green orbs glowing in the sun.

"Oh! So you heard about that. I kind of just made a random guess. All the other countries were taken," Teo said, a blush spreading over his pale face, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

"Well I think it was a very lucky guess," Katara said happily, "I'm glad you won it."

"Thanks," Teo mumbled, "But no one else seemed to be happy about it except me and you."

Katara laughed. "I expect I wouldn't be very happy if I lost a day's wages either." Her accent was so thick, that when she chuckled Teo had even harder of a time understanding what she said.

"Well I guess I better go see if my dad needs any help. Good luck on your first day."

Katara just smiled her bright smile and curtsied gracefully as she seemed to be doing to everyone who passed her way. Teo felt his hands slightly wobble, and knew that if his legs weren't useless the moment she dipped her head so elegantly they would have gave out and he would be a heap on the cold floor.

Katara hummed quietly to herself as she walked through the dark halls to the foyer in the middle of the house. The silence of the place was unnerving and the creak of a floorboard or the chirp of a bird was very welcoming in the still house. After taking a wrong staircase, for the house was three stories tall, and missing the hallway that led to the room, Katara finally found the room she was searching for.

The room was big, dusty, and dark; the curtains covered the windows so completely that not even a centimeter of light could pass through. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling was so covered in cobwebs that when the faulty electric was turned on, only a dim glow issued into the surrounding space. The walls were covered in a dark and light green striped wall paper. A few paintings hung here and there. One was especially pretty though. It was of a flower filled meadow tucked in neatly between two mountains.

"Better get to work," Katara mumbled to herself, moving the thick curtains aside and opening the large square windows. The sun high in the sky sent rays of light tumbling in warming the dismal feel of the room. "That's better," Katara sighed enjoying the heat of the light on her face.

Picking up the broom, Katara started her cleaning by sweeping the grimy floor. Next she wiped down the windows and the cabinet in the back of the room, which surprisingly was filled with bed linens and pillowcases. The furniture by the fireplace needed a more tactful cleaning then being doused with water. Its color was a soft green, and the pattern was of a growing forest. Katara lightly dipped a rag in water and wiped it gently over the sofa and chair, the layer of dust easily sticking to the damp cloth.

The piece in the room that effected Katara the most was a pale porcelain girl. The figure was only about five inches high, and painted on her was a pastel pink dress and white apron. But the thing that drew Katara was the small violin the girl held in her dainty hands. Overcome with emotion, Katara looked away and finished dusting the mantelpiece the antique stood on.

* * *

Katara sat at the large table in the kitchen with the other servants employed in the house. Mr. Filton, the gardener, was complaining about being expected to tend the large gardens without any help after them having fallen into such a state of disrepair. Katara listened happily, munching on her bread, cheese, and beef brisket. Suki sat next to Katara occasionally shouting out a sardonic word or two, laughing as the one talking glared at her.

After the meal ended, everyone went back to their chores finishing up the work left. Katara having completed the cleansing of the foyer decided to help Mr. Filton in the gardens. The sun was slowly setting, and the incoming night air felt cool on her skin.

He was right. The bushes, flowers, trees, and pathways were all in much need of tending. Even the orchard's trees needed pruning and de-weeding. A large patch of sunflowers grew on either side of the gate, their tall stems almost reaching to Katara's waist. Their large heads blossomed as if they were the queen of the flowers.

Katara gasped seeing the state of her favorite flower, the lilac bush. Its branches were sticking askew in odd angles, dandelions grew at the base of the bush, and the flowers looked to be in much need of water. Sighing, Katara fetched a pitcher and filled it up at the well near the entrance to the garden.

Delicately, Katara watered the lilacs at the base of the bushes, and picked the weeds growing around them, all the while uttering soft words to the plant. "It's going to be just fine. Pretty soon your blossoms will spread and be so healthy. All the other flowers in the garden will be so jealous."

"Hey there," A gruff voice said, "I used to talk to the plants too, but then people started saying I'd lost my marbles. Still do sometimes when no one's around."

"Good evening Mr. Filton," Katara replied sweetly, "Is it okay if I help for awhile in the garden. I finished all my chores inside and the brisk air feels so good."

"Of course," he replied, his husky voice warming up at the sight of such a nice and polite lass. He even found his lips turning up slightly at the corners from Katara's contagious smile. But Mr. Filton soon realized what he was doing, and stifled the grin before it broke through. "Do you like the lilacs?"

"Oh yes they are so wonderful, all the flowers are."

"The flowers are pretty, but you should have seen the garden a year ago before the master left. There was more help then though. He used to sit by the pond and walk along these paths almost every day. When he comes back he'll make sure it won't be so messy in here," Mr. Filton said as if remembering a far away thought.

"I'm sure he will," Katara murmured, not knowing what else to say. The sun was now falling rapidly in the sky, the light going with it. The garden's shadows were disappearing with the day's sky, and the area was becoming enveloped in the pale light of the new moon.

"You better go in miss. Soon it will be too dark to see."

* * *

Katara trudged up the stairs to her small room. It felt odd to be lying in a different bed staring at a strange wall, and Katara was overcome with a strong feeling of homesickness. Not for Mr. Clistone's apartment where Kanna probably sat in the parlor, but for her glorious Poland. She yearned for the Poland where she learned to ride a horse and roll pirogue doll without cracking it; the Poland where her family used to tell stories together and go on picnics by the Dunajec River and eat golabki.

That was all gone now. Even in years to come when things settled down, she would never be able to afford a ticket to take a boat to her blessed country. There was nothing to go back to anyways. Her remaining family was here, in England; a country where they have nothing.

Katara eventually fell asleep, but her mind was too laden with anxiety for it to be peaceful. She dreamt of her mother dying before her eyes, her father's body lying in the wilderness. But Katara remembered why she was here. She was supporting her family, giving Sokka a chance to go to school and have a successful job; a chance to make their life better.

The next morning was the same as the last, except this time her duty was to dust the third story banisters and the library. The third story banisters took a good two hours, for they were very wide, Katara could not even fit her whole hand around them. The library was more interesting.

When Katara first walked into the large room, she did not notice the man sitting in the corner. She was too overwhelmed by the shelves on every wall which reached to the ceiling, each one overflowing with books. There were leather couches in the middle of the room, surrounding a mahogany stained table.

"Hello Miss," the man said turning away from his sketch pad, "Come to clean this room?"

"Ah, yes sir," Katara said, issuing her deepest bow. He was obviously not a servant. "Are you the Master Iroh.?"

"Yes dear, but please just call me Iroh. I never really put much importance on the fancy titles. But dear you have not told me your name."

"I am Katara Drasinki," She replied proudly, holding her head up to meet the kind man's face. Her heritage was something she was and would always be proud of.

"So you are the new maid that started yesterday. I thought so since I have not seen you pretty face before," Iroh said winking.

"Thank you," Katara said cheerily eying the sketch Iroh held in his wrinkly hands, "Are you a painter?"

Iroh glanced down at his drawing, a simple picture of a hummingbird sucking the sweet nectar of a rose. A project started that morning after a beautiful bird landed on the windowsill during his boring breakfast of dry toast and cottage cheese, doctor's orders.

"Not officially but I always wanted to be one," he replied sighing, "My parents would never have allowed me in their words to sink to such a position. The ladies can spend their times painting in gardens and during tea time, but never a gentleman."

"I know exactly how you feel," Katara said forgetting her position, losing herself in the kind eyes of Iroh, "I wanted to be a professional violin player, but mama said it was not natural for a girl of my birth to do. That I must make a suitable marriage and a gentleman would never marry a girl who made a living herself playing with men."

"The rules of class were never fair were they dear," Iroh said wistfully, glancing over the Polish girl. Her skin was too soft to be of working class and her eyes to large with knowledge. Iroh held his hand instinctively towards her, but she declined insisting her work needed intending to.

Silently she dusted the thick volumes of novels and encyclopedias, her mind wondering to her lovely violin destroyed in their apartment in Warsaw. She remembered the rainy days standing by the window playing for hours as a storm raged on the outside, yet she was warm and cozy inside.

* * *

Zuko sat in his bed, the nurses all tittering around him annoying him excessively. All he wanted was his cold breakfast and the pounding ache in his head to go away. In less than a week he would be in peace or in as much as a peace he could be in. In just five days he could be alone in his own house, with his own books, warm food, and quiet. If only his stupid head would stop hurting.

**End of Ch.2. Zuko will be coming home in the next chapter so stay tuned for more!! **

**Poland lost a soccer game to Germany in the Euro cup. ******** I was very sad. They are still in it though. They just can't lose their next game!!**


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own ATLA

**I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender**

**Ch. 3**

The week passed by in an uneventful manner. Mr. Sidle decided Katara was worthy to stay on the staff, considering she completed her chores adequately and helped others without having to be asked, and she never started any trouble unlike Suki. Mr. Sidle was in a tense mood, more so than normal, considering the Master was coming home and everything had to be perfect for his arrival.

Zuko's room was cleansed from floor to ceiling, new sheets provided for the bed, the carpet received two thorough beatings, and his clothes washed and folded. The room was spotless, Mr. Sidle having been present through the whole cleaning, and even helped dust a few fragile objects on the mantelpiece.

Katara being a new arrival worked in less important areas then Zuko and Iroh's bedrooms. The dark colors of the quarters continued to disturb her, but a walk through the gardens after the chores were completed cheered her immensely. By now she had every path, alcove, nook, and recess of the garden memorized.

The day was clear and sunny, just as June aught to be, and everyone started the morning as usual, but there was a tense feeling of anticipation in the air. Mrs. White, the cook, was up at four to prepare the special homecoming feast. Roasted quail marinated in a creamy vermouth dressing, pumpkin ravioli with a hazelnut sage sauce, fresh fruit, and Greek salads with olives shipped from Greece were all on the menu. The dessert, a strawberry cream cake, was the Master's favorite and most dedicated piece for the dinner.

Mr. Sidle, especially anxious, was on the lookout for the coming of Zuko's favorite Rolls Royce since ten. The servants were attired in their dress uniforms to greet the master politely when he arrived, but more as a friendly reunion since only a few new maids had been hired since his departure.

* * *

Zuko peered out the window of the passenger seat as the familiar sights came into view. A cane was strewn across his lap reminding him why he was excessively peeved. His ribs not fully healed, required the extra help of a cane when walking for support. The doctor, "just to be safe," would not let him drive home, so a chauffeur was necessary, and he was driving the speed limit.

The old town he loved, twenty miles outside of London, passed before his eyes as they traveled to the north end, where his cozy mansion lay, or at least he thought it was cozy, the townsfolk on the other hand said it was haunted. They passed _Mrs. Brown's Bakery_, which supplied the most delicious cheese strudel, and the small crumbling library. Zuko greeted the sights happily, a great change from when he first arrived at fourteen.

The automobile smoothly glided along the dirt road surrounded by forestry leading up to the castle. The green was lush and in full bloom, especially vivid in the late morning sun. The chauffeur stopped at the front entrance allowing Zuko to enter where the servant's waited to meet him. Their round faces glowed with nervous delight as Zuko walked clumsily into the front hall, cane in use.

"Welcome home master," Mr. Sidle declared shaking Zuko's strong hand, "We are overjoyed at your return."

"As am I," Zuko said with a genuine smile on his face as he greeted not only his servants but friends. Mrs. White embraced Zuko as if he was her own child, ignoring the rules that divided them in class.

"Let me introduce to you our newest hireling, Katara Drasinki," Mr. Sidle said grinning at the young dark haired girl.

Katara bowed as respectfully and gracefully as she could muster, breaking out of her entrancement with the pale golden eyed scarred face. Katara had never seen a more handsome face, even marred by such a large scar it was still beautiful. His hair, black as night, fell in jacked edges around his face, perfectly messy. Even though he was leaning on a cane, she could tell his arms and chest were muscular.

"Are you Polish then?" He asked quietly, looking intently at Katara.

"Yes, my family is from Warsaw. We had an apartment in the middle of the city," Katara answered politely, her voice steady, the beautiful Poland her anchor, "I've only been in this country for a few months."

"And how long of that have you been working here?" Zuko asked remembering how civil conversations were supposed to be carried out. He never really was much of talker, and after awhile they just became dull and boring.

"Just a week sir." Many foreigners filled the streets of London working in hotels, restaurants, factories, and anywhere jobs were available

"Do you like it here?"

"Very much sir, the gardens are lovely, the people very nice, and the house is fine, but it's just so dark," Katara said innocently, "None of the rooms have any brightness. The colors are so dead."

"Really," Zuko said curiously reviewing the rooms he could remember in his head, "I guess there's a reason the people in the village call it haunted." Gingerly, he removed his jacket and handed it to Henry, one of the footmen, and walked for the stairs, wishing to be along once again.

The servants dispersed, going back to their normal duties. Katara having been dusting the cabinet in the entrance hall, stayed in the room to finish her task. Katara hearing a sigh, turned around to see Zuko walking painfully and slowly up the long staircase and trying to think of it was appropriate to help him or not, Zuko reached step five and a grimace of pain came over his face. Overcome with emotion, Katara rushed forward to help him.

"I'm fine," he muttered grumpily, "I don't need any help." Hearing his tone, Katara backed away, but as he tripped, she hurried to support him again.

"You may think your fine, but you won't be when you're sprawled on the ground because of pride," Katara said forgetting herself for a moment. Men always were obstinate.

Zuko just grunted unhappily. How could he become so weak that a skinny, un-muscular girl had to help him up a flight of stairs? The girl's firm hand around his waist did not help his concentration, so he stumbled a little more then normal, becoming increasingly displeased with the situation. Eventually they made it to the top and he dismissed her with a wave of his hand, not looking back to see her perplexed face.

Katara was perplexed. His manner on the stairs was of brooding detachment, not saying anything at all, not even saying thank you when they reached the hallway of the second floor. She thought about this as she mopped the dinning room, washed the curtains, scrubbed the silverware, trimmed the rose bush, during dinner, and finally as she lay in bed that night.

Zuko was in a state of grumpy discomfort. It hurt to do everything; walking, eating, sitting, thinking, and even going to the bathroom caused distress. Feeling like a toddler again was not enjoyable to a twenty year old male. It felt good to be in his own room again with no fluttering nurses, though he was very grateful to them. After awhile sitting in his room just gazing out the window became tedious and he wanted to go to the library, but that was on the first floor and a trip down the stairs would not be easily attainable.

So he decided to visit the music room. An old piano sat in the corner, a flute lay in a velvet case, and a violin held neatly on a stand stood unperturbed next to a shelf filled with music. More instruments littered the room here and there, Iroh being such a music fanatic. This room was one of the few regularly cleaned and inhabited during the war. Zuko had never been much of a musician, but his mom like many had forced him to take piano lessons.

He sat down on the stained old bench next to the upright and plucked a few notes on the ivory keys. Testing his proficiency, Zuko grabbed Mozart's Waltz in A Minor and garbled through the music, if you could call what he played music. He could only play one volume, loud, and all the notes were choppy and irregular, but it was a start. After a few run-throughs, the piece sounded more like a distressed bird then a dying ostrich.

"I've always loved that song," Iroh said entering the room, "I'm happy you're playing music again. The house has been so quiet lately."

"After a few days of my playing you'll welcome the silence," Zuko replied moodily.

"Nonsense, you're bad but not that bad," Iroh said happily sitting down in an over-stuffed armchair. Sighing, he closed his eyes and leaned against the squishy back. It was good to have his nephew home again. Zuko just ignored him and took a piece of Debussy which was impossible. Zuko never was much of a fan of Debussy. All his songs were frustrating, containing either five sharps or six flats. Losing his patience, Zuko stepped off the bench scraping it along the floor as he did.

"Done already?" Iroh inquired. "They're probably ready for dinner anyways. I hear it's going to be really special," he added winking.

"Yeah," Zuko said smiling for his uncle, even though he'd enjoy a quiet dinner in one of the alcoves of his gardens more. The servants, he knew were excited, and Mrs. White who followed him into exile from his Father's he could not disappoint. He would smile, and laugh, and act happy for them. Tonight, he could not let the images of war come to him.

Slowly, Zuko walked to his room. His back was stiff, his ribs hurt, his leg ached dully, but he tried to be cheery. He was older, more mature, he did not need to cause his uncle more worry. Then again, if he was standing a few inches to the left when the submarine exploded, he wouldn't be here at all.

Sighing, he buttoned up the uncomfortable collar of an oxford shirt he was required to where for such a dinner occasion. The black pants he secured around his waist after all could be starchier and tighter. Even though his uncle would be disappointed, he refused to wear a tie.

This time, Iroh waited for Zuko at the stairs and helped him down after many unpleasant grumblings and denials. With Iroh, Zuko being not as flustered was able to maneuver more smoothly down each step. Strangely, surprising himself, Zuko wished it was Katara's small hand around his waist, not his uncle's. Blushing, he pushed that thought quickly out of his traitorous mind.

At the bottom, he quickly separated from his uncle, who just chuckled and moved on towards the dining room, which was lavishly decorated. All the silver was polished and on display at the buffet table, the best china was set out, and a row of delicious and beautifully decorated food sat in the middle of the table, but the dessert still waiting in the kitchen for the main course to be over. Mr. Sidle hurried into the room and helped Iroh and Zuko into the chairs, much to Zuko's dismay.

I hope you enjoy your meal," Mr. Sidle beamed, very glad that the owner was restored in the house again. It already felt a hundred times less lonely.

"I will," Iroh exclaimed, "Everything looks so delicious, Mrs. White really outdid herself."

Mrs. White and all the servants, who were waiting behind the door, glowed with delight at this praise. Content with the situation, they walked back to the kitchen where they eagerly awaited the deliverance of the strawberry cream cake.

"You should bring it up, you're the one who baked it," Suki said fervently to Mrs. White.

"But it would be improper for me to serve it," Mrs. White replied dejectedly, "That's Mr. Sidle's job."

"But it's so old-fashioned and Zuko would probably like to thank you. It's his favorite cake; he'll want to see you," Suki shot back, firm in her desire for the chef to present the cake, which was delightfully adorned with strawberries and cream and mint leaves.

"I guess it would be all right and if that's would Zuko would want then…"

"Good!" Suki exclaimed grabbing the dessert and shoving it into Mrs. White's waiting hands, "He'll be so happy, you'll see."

Zuko finished his roast quail, but did not ask for seconds, leaving room for the dessert he knew was so excitedly waiting for him. Mrs. White probably prepared something special, and he wanted to make her as happy as possible. He was so far doing a very good job at hiding the anxiety that was waiting to leak through, the dreams that might come to him that night, but then he found himself genuinely happy as Mrs. White, burst through the door with a huge smile on her face carrying a delicious strawberry cream cake.

"You made my favorite," Zuko grinned back, "A perfect dessert to wrap up your splendid meal."

"I knew you'd like it," Mrs. White said beaming with so much pleasure that Zuko felt guilty for not originally wanting to come, "But don't say it's good yet until you try it. This time I added a new ingredient and I want to make sure you like it."

Zuko smiled, and scooped a big slice onto a new plate. Mrs. White waited anxiously as Zuko ate a bite, swallowed and looked towards her. "It's even better than the last time."

"I'm so happy," Mrs. White said bustling towards the door, "Wyborowa…that's the new ingredient. Katara gave it to me, some kind of alcohol from Poland. I mixed it in with the cream."

**End of Chapter 3**

**PLEASE REVIEW**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender.**

**Story note: I guess this story would only make sense if it happened just after World War two, so that's when this takes place. **

**Ch.4**

Zuko had the dream that night, and it was still as terrifying as the first time it came to him. The explosion, his friend being engulfed in flames while he laid useless on the floor, the ship sinking, water rising, unconsciousness, and waking up the only survivor of a ship you were in charge of, you were made to keep safe.

Zuko tried to stop his panting, tried to push the lump down in his throat, tried to ignore the sweat that plastered his clothes to his clammy body. Hot, but cold, he pried open the window overlooking his garden, and breathed in the refreshing night air. But soon the breath was caught in his throat as he noticed a solitary figure walking among the lilacs.

Her walk was lithe and slow, and her face was turned solemnly to the pale moon. Zuko sighed, feeling like he watched something he shouldn't, a private conversation which the girl and the glowing orb silently carried out.

Katara Drasinki let the chestnut waves of hair, normally tied up, hang freely down her back. She only had on a thin white nightgown, the evening being too hot to dress more proprietarily with a shawl or jacket, and no one was going to see her anyways. All the servants had been long asleep, the hour being past midnight.

Katara was restless; she did not want to think it was because of him. The reason was obviously the excitement of the party and Mrs. White's dessert having such a success, and then the servant's getting the leftovers of the delicious meal. The cake was so good too, and Katara had been so full afterwards it hurt to do anything but lie down. She hadn't felt that happy since her eighteenth birthday, the week before her mother died.

Feeling out of place, lonely, and yearning for her brother, Katara trudged heavily to her room. Zuko watched her walk back into the house, and wondered at her late night visit to the overgrown and very large garden. When she disappeared from sight, Zuko lay back down, but fear of the vivid dream kept his mind from gaining the unconscious state he wished.

* * *

Katara felt better the next morning, and Mr. Sidle could not get her to shut up about the "rolling hills of Poland and the amazing Tatras." From what Mr. Sidle picked up, the Tatras were a mountain of some sort, but he couldn't be sure, because occasionally when she got too excited she switched over to Polish.

"It is so beautiful, but you should see the valleys. The valleys are so big, and so easy to get lost in. _Lasy, kwiaty, niebo, one są tak_ _cudowny_," Katara said, not watching where she was going, "_niebo jest najwięcej cudowny. To kontynuuje na zawsze_."

Zuko in the room they were passing thought someone was speaking gibberish, but realized the intricate sounds was another language, and he could think of only one person who would be speaking another language. He listened, and the strange sounds continued. They were gentle, almost musical.

"You'll have to go back to English dear," Mr. Sidle was saying, "I can't understand Polish." Wow, Zuko thought, when had Mr. Sidle become so informal as to call someone dear.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I hadn't realized," Katara exclaimed, "I just started rambling, and if I'm not paying attention…"

"It's all right; I think I got the general gist of what you were saying."

Katara inclined her head in a short bow. "Well I'll go finish cleaning the bathroom; the toilette you know needs a thorough rinsing."

"Okay," Mr. Sidle said, knowing she could have left that last bit out, "And don't forget to mop the back staircase, someone dragged mud in." Katara nodded, and with her bucket and supplies, went to carry out her servant duties.

The next day was Sunday, and Katara wanted to attend a Catholic service, but realized she didn't know where a Catholic Church was, considering most of England was part of the Church of England, not Catholicism. But there were other immigrants like her, and there must be a Church somewhere. Katara took up this matter with Mr. Sidle. He figured that one would be in London, but didn't know where. Rose or Mrs. White didn't know either, and Iroh was in the town, so she couldn't ask him, which left Zuko.

Katara nervously knocked on his door, and sucked in a breath. She wasn't sure if servants normally addressed their masters this way or not, but Mass was more important to her than convention.

Zuko opened the door and stared at her for a few seconds before asking, "Can I help you?"

"Um, I was wondering if you know where a Catholic service was. I asked everyone else, and no one seemed to know," Katara answered, firmly. She wanted to attend God's ceremony; she missed the comfortable feeling of being in Jesus's house. The first two months in London having not gone at all because her grandmother was such an emotional wreck. She couldn't be removed from the house without thinking she was going to get blown up.

"The only one I can think of is in London. I believe it was started by German immigrants, so it probably isn't in English," Zuko replied.

"That's okay. If you can give me the address, I would like to attend the service tomorrow," Katara said solidly, no wavering in her tone, her nervousness dissolved, her goal going to be achieved. She didn't feel like telling Zuko she had a governess as a child who taught her German.

"But it's in London, how are you going to get there? It's too far of a walk?" This girl had to be a little bit crazy if she thought she was going on foot. But her eyes were so clear, so firm in her resolve; he knew she'd find a way.

"I was thinking I could walk. I could just leave very early in the morning." It wasn't that far was it? When she came out here it wasn't that far of a drive. Only three hours. That was achievable on foot wasn't it?

"By the time you get there the service will be over, and then you'll have to walk home in the dark. London isn't exactly the safest place to be during the night." Yep, this girl was crazy.

"I know!" Katara exclaimed, "I could catch a ride with Mr. Tiller. He mentioned something when he visited the other day about having to get some tools for his store!"

"He'll leave really early in the morning though and won't be back until late in the evening. You can't be in London all day and not have something to do. There are people who'd take advantage of an idling foreigner." Damn! Why did he even care?

"I'll visit my grandmother, she'd like that," Katara replied calmly, "And when I come back, I'll go through the back door like I always do, walk up the back stairs and go to my room…Do I have you permission to leave?"

"Yes," Zuko said clearing his throat, "But with or without my permission you would have gone anyway wouldn't you?"

"Yes sir," Katara answered. "Have a good evening." She bowed, but couldn't hide the smile spreading across her face. Were servants allowed to smile in front of their masters? Oh well, she did anyways.

Happily, but sleepily Katara waited for Mr. Tiller and his truck. It was still very dark, considering it was 4 am, but Katara didn't feel frightened in its black depth, just excited. Zuko wasn't. He couldn't understand why he was worried. There were some very bad streets in London, but she wouldn't aimlessly wonder onto them, would she? It's not like she'd never been in London before, but it was easy to get lost and even living there for two months wasn't enough to be even remotely aware of the streets. Mr. Tiller was a good man and wouldn't desert her or anything, but he was very preoccupied and if she went missing or something he wouldn't know until late that night.

Katara stood cheerfully as Mr. Tiller pulled up in his truck, no anxiety weighing her down, except for the always constant nervousness about Sokka. He was a magnet for trouble, which was his own fault.

"Hey little lady," Mr. Tiller said in his thick accent, "Just hop in the back. It should be comfortable enough with all the sacks and such lying around."

"Thanks sir," Katara said climbing very unladylike into the vehicle, "I really appreciate it."

"No trouble at all," he replied happily, "Any time you need a ride just ring me on the telly."

Katara smiled and settled contentedly against what appeared to be a bag of potatoes. The journey to the city was pleasant and peaceful. The morning was chilly, but the crisp air felt good and helped clear Katara's head. Well, that's the sensation is aroused, but her head was still very much full when they arrived. The three hours spent passing hills, forests, cottages, and stunning clear streams made Katara feel very serene.

A beautiful brook that flowed close to the road greeted them by bubbling excitedly as they passed. Birds chirped saying hi to the new day. Squirrels ran impatiently up trees collecting nuts. Rabbits glided effortlessly through the greenery, occasionally grabbing a blade of grass to chomp on. The nature in this country foreign to Katara was flawless, and for once she felt connected to her surroundings.

When they got about an hour from London the roads were brick and houses were not so infrequent. In fact, country stores and houses were quite common, always in sight as they traveled under the piercing blue sky. It seemed as if it was effortless for England to produce such beauty, but going into London she knew otherwise. There were the dirty alleys, boarded up houses, and dingy shops. There were the grimy men who hung out in the pubs just waiting for a chance to shout out vulgar things to a young woman. But she would be fine. She was just going to Mass and then to her grandmother's. Plus some of London was very beautiful.

Katara loved seeing new parts of the city, good or the bad, and the part they were traveling through now was not lovely but it was not appalling either. A house with pretty flowerpots in the windows was smashed between two with collapsing roofs. A pretty boutique shop with colorful dresses on display was a block away from a dank ponshop.

This part of town was made up of equal parts of beauty and the foul, and Katara just focused on the beauty. She waved at a group of girls playing with dolls on the sidewalk and said hello to a young man who tipped his hat to her.

"Can I drop you off here lass?" Mr. Sidle asked, "Where I need to be going is just around the block."

"That's fine. The church is only a few blocks from here and the service doesn't start for another hour," Katara replied as Mr. Sidle helped her out of the back, "I'll see you later then. We'll meet here right? Tonight at seven?"

"Yep. Have a good day then." Mr. Sidle hurried off down the street, a slight limp to his stride.

Katara joined the large crowd of people on the sidewalk and barely had to walk she was shoved so much. Welcome to London. Welcome to the overpopulated areas and the people who don't care if they pushed you down. But today she didn't care about the man who said nasty things to her or the woman who told her to go back to her own country.

Because when Katara stepped into the German Church, she felt for the first time that she was home.

The high stain class windows, the alter, the statues of Mary and Jesus were all familiar. The service was lovely, and it was in German, but she could still understand it. After the mass ended, she had about an hour before her grandmother expected her, so she stayed in the church and prayed. It felt nice to be free for one day from the feelings surrounding her. The church, the service, it was all the same as if she had been in Poland. And today she felt as if she was finally coming to some kind of agreement with this foreign country. After all, she couldn't deny that the country was beautiful.

**End**

**Next chapter we will start at the respected Mrs. Drasinki's apartment.**


	5. Chapter 5

Ch

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender.**

**(It's Ch.5) YAY! A Prime number! **

Katara gave Kanna a hug, burying her head in her grandmother's shoulder, the affectionate gentleness welcome. Kanna looked the same as always, wrinkly and old, but there was a new brightness to her eyes, almost like the warmth that used to be there when they lived in Poland. Katara smiled, enjoying the eyes that always watched her so closely as a little girl.

"Have you talked to Sokka lately?" Katara asked, wondering how her fanatical brother was doing. Probably offending the teachers and skipping class.

"He's fine, just really hates the school. At least he's made a friend though, another orphan. During break he'd like to bring him down to visit. I said it was fine as long as he keeps his grades up and doesn't cause any trouble."

"Well I'll keep my fingers crossed about that," Katara replied sarcastically. Sokka getting into trouble was the only thing she could count on him to do.

"He seems to really like this boy, so I think he'll try to behave. His name is Aang or something like that. Odd name I think," Kanna said absentmindedly. And Sokka wasn't a weird name either?

"At least he's happier," Katara said, wishing whole-heartedly for them to be together as a happy family once again. But when she thought about it, she pictured one more person…

"But what about you?" Kanna asked in her aged voice, "Are you happy where you're at."

"I think I am," Katara said genuinely. She felt happy to be in the country, happy to work every day from morning till night, happy to work hard to earn money for her family, and happy to see him.

* * *

It was evening; the house was still, everyone asleep except one person. He was waiting. It was late and he was worried, and being worried about this particular reason annoyed him. So in general he was irritated at himself for being worried and then being annoyed for being worried. It was a whole complicated thought process that only a complex person like Zuko could have, no matter how stupid.

So Zuko sat in a chair close to the window, with a good view of the path to the back door. A book lay perched in his hands, _Tarzan of the Apes, _by Edgar Rice burrows. It was a book he used to read as a young boy. And when he was small, he used to wish he was him. Tarzan was strong and he saved people. His father didn't call him weak and like his sister better. And after he played Tarzan in the backyard by climbing trees and such, his father would make him feel ashamed by telling him only pathetic people lived in fantasy worlds.

Azula didn't play with dolls. She didn't play princess games with Ty Lee and Mai. They practiced acrobatics, horse riding, archery, even fencing! But fencing was one thing they couldn't beat or humiliate him at. Once, his father even patted his back after a match. That was the happiest Zuko ever remembered being; the day his dad actually did something that showed an ounce of affection. A pat on the back, and Zuko thought he could have flown to the moon. Zuko was better now, he was getting over it.

And there she was.

Katara glided up the path, staring at the huge floating orb in the sky. She had always felt close to the moon, even as a little girl. The moon was always there, something she could rely on to brighten the night sky. It was her friend, her lantern in the dark night sky. And the moon's children, the stars, were her friends also.

The night was still and peaceful, with just the tiniest hint of a breeze, making the flowers sway gently. The sky was ablaze. The moon and stars glowed with a bright ferocity, and Katara thought she could see Venus, the earth's sister planet, the evening star, sharing its light in the sky.

"_Piękny wzrok_," Katara breathed. It was the perfect night.

Zuko set his book down and turned off the lamp, but Katara saw a glint in the window before blackness enveloped the house. It was about time she showed up, Zuko thought irritably. Tomorrow would not be a good day for him. Being tired and aggravated was not a good combination for someone who had an emotional balance like Zuko.

And he was right. That morning was a very uncomfortable one.

Zuko barked at his Uncle when he tried to help him out of bed, snapped at Mr. Sidle when he pulled out Zuko's chair, and spilled hot tea all over his pants when he was trying to grab a slice of bacon. That was when Iroh lost it. He tried to hold in his laughter, for his nephew's sake, but just couldn't. The cause and effect reaction happened and Zuko, who was usually at fault for his own problems, stormed off to his bedroom.

Katara had witnessed the whole thing, being about to walk into the dining room with a plate of fresh biscuits, and could only wonder at why Zuko was in a horrible mood. Katara, trying to be helpful, carried a tray upstairs containing a few biscuits, butter, strawberry jam, and some more tea. Silently, she set them outside Zuko's room, where he was mediating and before turning away, she knocked on the door. Zuko thinking it was his uncle, grumpily opened the door and was further annoyed by seeing no one. But he saw a fleeting glimpse of brown hair and noticed the tray on the floor…

Katara hurried down the stairs. She would rather Zuko think Mr. Sidle or Iroh gave him the food, not the Polish servant, but then again didn't servants do things like that? It was common for servants to give food to their masters, wasn't it? Mother used to eat breakfast in bed. But mother was kind of eccentric. She ordered baguettes from France, curry from India, rice from Japan. Once, for a show, she bathed her horse in champagne. That was one thing that really got the neighbors talking. But Katara loved all of it. Every single strange thing her mother did she loved.

Thinking about fond memories, Katara walked to the music room for the first time with her dust bucket in hand. Walking into the room, Katara felt a rush of pure joy. Music, her passion! The walls were decorated with pale gold wallpaper containing a scene of Angels peacefully playing the harpsichord. The piano was stunning, sleek mahogany with intricate Fleur-de-lis patterns. It was and antique, probably originating from the early eighteen hundreds, and for the rest of her life she would think it easily the most beautiful piano she'd ever seen.

But what caught Katara's breath and made it hard to breath, was the smooth leather case in the corner. Without a second thought she knew what it was. The shape was so recognizable, something she would never be able to forget; the shape of a violin.

She walked towards it, praying fervently that the instrument she yearned for, wanted with her soul, was in the container. Solemnly, she untied the stale brown ribbons. Gently, she opened the case, and there lay peacefully a violin. Katara stood and stared at the beautiful instrument, and then held it for the first time in four months. Katara picked up the bow tossed carelessly in the case, and strummed a note. The instrument was horrifically out of tune, but that was easily fixed by adjusting the pegs in the pegbox.

Katara not knowing how to start wanted to play everything at once; Mozart's sonatas, Dvorak's concertos, Mendelssohn's poignant melodies.

Katara strung a note and then another, not yet knowing which song to play, but it formed with each passing note. And the song that formed was Ysaÿe's sonata no.3 "Ballade". The haunting song started slow, quiet, almost undecided. Katara played, the music echoing the feelings she felt. And she forgot who she was, where she was, what she was supposed to be doing. All that mattered was the music; to play the next note.

Zuko heard it, sitting by the window. He heard a beautiful, haunting sound laden with emotion. Iroh heard it also. Sighing contentedly, he sat still and listened to the music floating peacefully to his room. Right now, he would not disturb the young lady to ask her how she could play with such talent, passion, and feeling.

Zuko softly walked to the room where the sound was coming from, listening to the hum of notes building slowly, expressively. He opened the door an inch, and saw Katara standing with her back to him, playing like she was a thirsty man in the dessert with water. She played louder, faster, the notes rising, climaxing to a peak erupting from somewhere apart of her. And Zuko could only stare, wondering how, and why?

She ended the song, quickly, abruptly. It was over and before Zuko could turn away, she looked startled straight at him.

"I'm sorry," she yelped, "Please don't send me away. I just wanted to play one song. I'll never pick it up again, I'll never play it again…I'm sorry."

"No!" Zuko exclaimed, surprising himself, "You can't! You must keep playing. Why wouldn't you keep playing?"

"I'm only a servant sir, and I am not permitted. I'll never do it again," Katara said walking towards the door, leaving the instrument she loved.

"It's okay. I don't want you to stop, it was really…beautiful," Zuko said struggling with the words to say. This was not really his area of conversation.

"Thank you," Katara said softly. The last time her playing had been called beautiful was at the winter recital, a month before they were attacked. Alesky Yavinki told her she sounded like the last King's songbird. She didn't know if he actually meant it or not because he was in the process of trying to court her. The parents thought it a "suitable match" and a "smart match." She was rich, so was he and a high ranking army officer. What more could a young girl like Katara want? Love. And her grandmother was the only one who understood.

"It was so…nice…and I think if you stopped playing, it would be like sending an angel who fell to earth back to heaven." Oh shit, where did that come from? That did not come out exactly as he hoped. In response, she turned a bright shade of red and inclined her head slightly to the floor.

"Okay, I won't stop. But please, for now, don't tell anyone," Katara said shuffling towards the door. Zuko let her pass, but not before he saw the tears glinting in her large brown eyes, for happiness or sadness of the past, Zuko could not be sure.

* * *

Katara sat in the shade of a large elm tree in the late July heat and rinsed the laundry of the house. Zuko and Iroh were in London on a business trip, and would not be back until the beginning of August. Katara did not see much of Zuko in the two weeks that followed their meeting in the music room. Mr. Sidle after a conference with Iroh, decided it was time to clean the attic. And this project kept the servants quite busy, since it seemed as if stuff had been thrown in and nothing ever taken out, probably never cleaned since the house was built!

It was interesting though, because there were some very unique objects that were extracted from the layers of dust and debris, including something Sokka would like very much; a device that had a scrubber on one end and a plunger on the other. It was crafted to plunge the toilette and clean the sink at the same time. It obviously didn't work out very well.

The thing that caught Katara's eye though, was a dress, a black dress. It was old-fashioned, way out of style, with a high neckline, too long also. But she could change that, she could alter it. The smooth, creamy fabric, the flawless stitching was too wonderful to waste. Katara addressed Mr. Sidle about acquiring the dress, paying for it with part of her paycheck, and he agreed, knowing Zuko or Iroh had not brought it along and would not mind. It was evidently a prior owner's. He would of course later inform Iroh on this transaction and give Katara's money to him.

And so everything in the attic was accounted for and listed. The junk was thrown away and anything of interest or value kept for Iroh's inspection. A lot of the stuff they gave away before he could look at it because he would insist on keeping most of the random pieces of rubbish. Iroh definitely did not need any more antiques or nick-knacks. His room was littered with old vases, books, tea-sets, pictures, figurines, even a white rabbit coat and matching hat.

Iroh, in London, was actually browsing through an antique shop as the servants worked so hard to clear the litter in the house. Zuko was following along, taking a break from the endless talks with lawyers and such. His father at the moment was in jail for all his Hitler support and escapades with that crew, and being his one and only son, Zuko couldn't leave him to rot, as much as he wanted to. Azula wouldn't be joining them for this business trip. She would come on the next in the fall. But knowing Azula's fickleness, she was probably claiming nothing was her fault and father abused and threatened her to get his way. She was, of course, always the victim.

Needless to say, this whole thing was a mess and was going to take a lot of time to sort through. So, Zuko wondered through the shelves of antiques, thinking over all this, not really looking at what he saw. But moping towards a glass case, the afternoon sun glinted off an object serenely contained inside it. The object was a necklace, with a charm of a black and gold violin hanging on the chain.

"It's very pretty isn't it," the owner said noticing Zuko's interest in the object, "Very old too, and expensive."

"I'll buy it." And that's what Zuko did.

Two days later driving home in a Rolls Royce, Zuko carried a little package in his pocket, no one knowing about it except him. Zuko knew who he wanted to give it to, but he didn't know when or if he would ever have the chance to.

**End! REVIEW!!**

If you want to hear the song Katara was playing, just look it up on google video by typing in _Ysaÿe's sonata no.3 "Ballade". _My favorite version is the first one that pops up, the seven minute one. It doesn't actually show the person that's playing it, just a picture of a guy holding a violin.

By the way, I have seen a pure white rabbit coat. It must have needed a whole field of bunnies to make that monster. It was scary…very long and furry. I probably could have hid inside it.

**Timeline: **

Late June: Zuko comes home. Early July: Church outing. Few days after Church outing: Violin scene.

Mid July: Zuko and Iroh leave on business. Early August: They come home.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to Irish-Piano-fingers for the eye update! It's nice to be notified when I make a mistake!

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender or a _Countess Below Stairs._

**Important: I accidently called Mr. Tiller, Mr. Sidle in chapter four. It's Mr. Tiller, not Mr. Sidle in London with Katara. Opps!**

**Ch. 6**

It was a hot Sunday in Early August, the date Zuko and Iroh were traveling home. Iroh refused to not let the servants have the day off, so Katara was pretty much alone in the huge house. No one had business in town to attend to, so she did not have a ride to Mass. But she was keeping herself busy. Dear Mrs. White said she could stay back and cook, but Katara said she could take care of it, since Mrs. White greatly wanted to visit her mother.

So Katara sat over a barrel peeling potatoes for _placki kartoflane_, the side dish of her menu, which included _karp faszerowany pieczony_ (stuffed crabs) as the main course. And she hoped it would be special, since she had to wake up at four to get the freshest crabs from the fish market. And on the way home from the fish market, she stopped at Mrs. Patterson's to buy mushrooms, for her _mushroom borscht_. The dessert, her favorite as a little girl, would be _makowiec_, topped with homemade icing and filled with walnuts, raisins, poppy seeds, and all sorts of tasty ingredients.

She was excited. It was going to be a splendid dinner. Kanna made her _Nalenski_, Crepes with apple filling, the last time she visited, but a good complete Polish meal was something she had not enjoyed in a long time. So, Katara worked through the morning and into the afternoon, humming Wieniawski's concertos and enjoying the beautiful day. The clouds in the sky were big and puffy, the type you can watch and make shapes out of. The sun was hot, but a nice breeze set off its warmness. You could feel the coming of fall.

When she finished her potatoes, Katara started rolling the dough for her _Makowiec_, a delicious sweet bread usually made in the Christmas season. Knuckles to palm, Katara kneaded the dough, its color becoming more consistent. Setting it aside and covering it with a cloth, Katara allowed the dough to double in size, preparing it for the baking it would soon receive.

"Ooh! That smells good," Suki said prancing into the kitchen, "I don't suppose you have time for a break. I would love to have someone to eat my bread and cheese sandwich with."

"Of course, I just set aside my dough," Katara replied cheerily, "Are we going for a picnic? I would love some fresh air."

Suki smiled brightly in response, her eyes and face alight with the beautiful glow always present in her aura. "I was thinking by the lake," She replied with a mischievous smile.

The two girls holding a basket between them walked across the lawn and towards the forest, the lake just beyond a veil of trees. The greenery shone brilliantly under the blue sky and Katara could only imagine how wonderful the lake sparkled in the sun. And when they walked through the smoky trees, Katara's eyes popped with delight at the clear shimmery water looking peaceful and serene, no worries to trouble its day.

"I think this is a good place to sit," Suki said as she dropped to the ground, "A nice patch of clean grass."

Katara sat next to her, enjoying the beauty of the fairytale-like alcove, tucked away unless you knew how to find it.

"So we have Gouda and day old French bread," Suki said rummaging through the wicker basket she sneaked from the kitchen supplies, "Geez mom, you could have put in a little more food…but I do like smoked Gouda."

"Did you see your mom? She made that lunch for us then?" Katara said, curious about her friend's family.

"Yes, I went home to visit this morning. She could have packed a little more though, but I guess times are tough without my dad around and two daughters to feed," Suki said sighing, but her attitude not deflating, "He died in the war you know…but so did a lot of other people."

"Yeah, I know how that is," Katara replied staring straight ahead, her mind focused on prior memories, sad ones. "Both my parents were killed. Now it's just my brother, Gran-Gran, and me."

"Well…let's get to a happier subject," Suki said jumping up, "Last one into the lake has to wash the dishes tonight."

Katara followed Suki as they barreled towards the lake. Without a second thought, Katara flung herself into the cool water, feeling wonderful as she plummeted towards the bottom. Pushing off from the rocky floor, Katara broke through the surface and gulped in a fresh breath of air. Sopping wet she turned to Suki with a bright smile on her face.

"It's brilliant isn't it," Suki said returning the smile, "I just love it here."

Silently, the two girls floated in the cool water, Katara feeling comfortable, at home. It was magical, a feeling of being in an enchanted woods where Snow White and her Dwarves would appear at in any moment. A blackbird swooped near the water, its talons scrapping against the surface, but it wasn't there for long. It billowed its wings and flew off into the endless depth of blue sky, a dry ocean that only birds could explore.

Lily Pads gently swayed in the wind's light breeze, they're leafs tickling Katara's skin. Laying in the water her eyes closed and mouth shut, Katara could hear a faint hum in the wind, not a sighing, but a song; a ballad to the beautiful day and an elegy to the creatures not there to see it. Katara hummed with it, her voice soft, not loud enough for anyone to hear but her. Lost in her enchanted world, Katara awoke to reality with a start.

"My bread's going to puff out and my crabs need to go in the oven," Katara exclaimed to Suki, racing towards the shore.

"Okay, just don't have a stroke," Suki said in her usually light-hearted manner, "Make sure you save some for me, I can't take anymore moldy bread and stale cheese."

"Sure," Katara said happily, "How about I give you some extra _Borscht_ to take home."

Suki flashed her white teeth and floated leisurely to the shore. Katara sopping wet, ran towards the house.

* * *

Zuko, still not fully healed, stepped stiffly from the Rolls Royce. And the long car ride did not make his aching back, in fact his whole body ached, feel better. What he wanted was a nice cup of hot coffee, he liked coffee better than tea but his uncle was in denial about it, and a hot meal.

The chauffer let them out in the front of the house, since he had to drive to the back for the car to be parked in the garage. The gardener or any of the servants were not bustling around the house since it was their day off, but Zuko did see something very interesting. A girl, and he knew precisely who it was, was running soaking wet through the yard towards the back of the house. Her clothes were drenched and would take awhile to warm on the hearth. A surprisingly cool wind picked up and blew into the loose fold of his clothes. It was going to be an early fall and a cold winter.

Zuko half walked, hobbled, and limped to the library. He pulled out a piece of paper half hidden between two books and started writing. Soon he was completely lost in the world he was writing, something he frequently liked to do, but no one knew about it but him, not even Uncle. Writing was his secret escape, his way to express what he was feeling since conveying emotion with words was not a talent he seemed to possess. Some considered him taciturn and unfriendly or even harsh, but it was just that he didn't have a knack for meeting new people and retaining relationships with them.

His Uncle always tried to help him by inviting boys his age to play cricket or by dressing him up for a dinner party, but as he got older his Uncle stopped trying so hard, figuring he would eventually change, which didn't really happen. Zuko was a normal person, but he just never seemed to fit in. He liked football (soccer), reading, occasionally playing the piano, seeing plays and movies, even going to the park, but when he did these things, they never seemed to involve other people.

So Zuko wrote line by line on the paper, scratching out words he didn't feel quite fit or adding new ones as needed. His Uncle was probably sitting out in the garden drawing flowers before they died of an early frost or quietly meditating in the fresh air, but Zuko sat inside in a stuffy library unaware of everything except the sentence he was concentrating on forming into a cryptic line of words.

It was Sunday, so no servants tittered about the room or could accidently walk in on him. The only one he'd seen was Katara doing Lord knows what. He was curious but not being exactly a people person, it would take some careful wording for him to ask her.

"Zuko," Iroh said softly, opening the door and peering in, "There you are. Dinner is ready."

"Did you make something?" Zuko asked, knowing Mrs. White was probably visiting her mother, who just developed the flu.

"No," Iroh replied, "Katara did. She's made us a traditional Polish meal and it smells delicious, so hurry up before it gets cold, I'm starving."

Zuko nodded, setting his ink brush to the side and clearing up the mass of papers before him. He walked to the dining room, straightening his collar and patting down his unruly hair. Katara stood by the table moving dishes and silverware, preparing everything for the meal about to take place.

"Will you be joining us?" Iroh asked smiling at the pretty woman.

"I don't think so," Katara replied nervously, "I'm just here to set out the plates."

"No you must," Iroh argued, "You had to have spent all day making this and I want you to enjoy it with us. It was your day off and you've spent it all working."

"I haven't been working all day…" Katara said blushing, thinking about her trips to the lake. Iroh just stood obstinately holding a chair out for her and she had no choice but to except. Zuko sat across from her, a look of concentration on his face as if he was trying to work out a hard geometry problem.

"Did you have a pleasant ride back?" Katara asked taking a potato pancake and ladling some soup into a bowl.

"The weather was perfect for traveling," Iroh said with a grin on his ever happy face, "I had the window down the whole time."

Katara smiled back and took a bite of her crab, enjoying the taste of her wonderful Poland immensely. Today was a very good day and she did not consider making food she loved work. It felt odd sitting with the man who paid her and if anyone walked in on them, they would probably be offended, but she didn't mind too much. Iroh was friendly and kind and it was hard to feel uncomfortable around such a nice man.

"This is wonderful!" Iroh exclaimed with a mouthful of crab, "Very tender and the flavor is like nothing I've ever had!" Katara just smiled even wider and went back to eating her borscht. Zuko was quietly eating a spoonful of soup, but Katara could tell he liked it since his bowl was already half gone.

The last time she had had a Polish dinner with people she cared about was the day before her father left them. Katara of course had Kanna and Sokka, but when they fled Poland the only food they consumed was British food prepared by Mr. Clistone's cook. And it was all very tasty but nothing she really loved, except the corn beef and cabbage, which involved a whole other story including Sokka and a meat grinder.

"Did you have a good day?" Zuko asked camly, "Did you go anywhere outside? The weather was beautiful."

"It was," Katara said a little anxiously, deciding whether to lie or not. She chose the truth. "Suki and I went on a picnic."

"That must have been pleasant," Zuko said in an overly friendly manner. He didn't mean to come off so exuberant, but then again he never really had the chance to be so enthusiastic. The last time he had been eager about something was at a Rolls Royce car show before he was shipped off to war. He got excited in his own way. The trees turning from green to red or the sun showing itself after a rainstorm were little things that made him happy. But to be absolutely thrilled about something had not happened since his mom was around.

"Where did you go for your picnic?" Zuko asked in an offhand manner.

"In a clear area of the woods," Katara replied piercing a potato pancake, "You know by the lake." Zuko just smiled. So that explains the sopping wet run towards the house.

"The lake is warm this time of year because of the sun," Zuko said casually, "And the weather's been so nice lately so I'm sure it would be good place to go swimming."

Katara just nodded. She had been hoping no one would see her…and one of the people she must act completely appropriate in front of sees her in a position not suitable for a master and maid.

"Yeah, I'm sure it is."

The dinner ended well. Iroh loved the dessert and Zuko couldn't quite conceal his pleasure with the sticky sweet bread. It turned out exactly as Katara hoped it would.

"It was very nice," Zuko said with a small smile as he walked towards his room.

**End of chapter!! REVIEW!! **

**Was anyone else mad about the Katang and Maiko ending! I was pretty upset. **


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